


Riding

by Ithiliana



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 19:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21415786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana
Summary: Summary: Sean has seenAppaloosa. He wants to talk.
Relationships: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Kudos: 8





	Riding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for _Reflections: 50 Days of Viggo_, for [The Sons of Gondor LiveJournal community](https://sons-of-gondor.livejournal.com/profile)

Viggo played the lobby piano, wandering from one ballad to another, the notes clear and true. The lobby was full of people who ignored the music. And him. He never tired of watching crowds, but he was glad not to be in the right spot wearing the right clothes, not identified as "movie star." The annual film festival familiar and exciting at the same time, was always a thrill although he missed Sean. He breathed out, the music soothing him, the keys warming under his fingers. Closing his eyes, he played on.

"Play it again, Sam."

The voice, as familiar as his own heartbeat, shocked through him. His hands slipped into discord, and he opened his eyes to stare into green. Sean leaned on the piano. The camera around his neck, the rumbled jeans and untucked t-shirt were odd, but no stranger than his unannounced appearance. They'd talked by phone only last week, and Sean had said nothing about Toronto.

"Sean!"

"Don't play it again, then, but let's blow this joint." The American accent was even more jarring than the clothes.

Viggo wet dry lips. "What are you doing here?"

"I've got a week or so free, and you were leaving for Idaho tomorrow anyway, so...." Sean shrugged, shifting position and taking a picture of the crowd entering the hotel. "Come on."

Viggo closed the piano lid gently and followed Sean through the crowd. There was a car outside, black and anonymous in the city traffic. Sean opened the back door and gestured Viggo in. Still shocked, Viggo sat down and slid across. The smell of leather surrounded him.

Sean sat beside him, closing the door and without a word, the driver pulled slowly away from the curb.

Sean's hand settled on Viggo's thigh. He smiled and closed his eyes, leaned back, spreading his legs. This was a familiar game. But the hand, warm and strong, did not move.

"What did you name the gun?"

"Flame."

Sean snorted, the soft breathy sound loud in the dark quiet. Viggo waited, curiosity aroused.

"Did you sleep with it?"

Viggo shifted. Sean's hand tightened.

"Not really."

"Where was it?

"Standing at the head of my bed." Viggo remembered but did not mention the fire alarm one night. He'd been halfway down the stairs before he was truly awake, barefoot but carrying Flame. No key either.

Sean leaned close enough to whisper, breathing damp warmth onto Viggo's skin. "I got a hard on every time you started polishing the bloody thing. I want that good a hand job."

Viggo nodded, sliding his arm under Sean's, fingers brushing against denim.

"Later."

"Where are we going?"

"Airport hotel. We're leaving early tomorrow. You can call and get your stuff delivered."

Viggo pressed his knee against Sean's leg, sliding on the slick seat, feeling Sean's hand warm and heavy on his thigh.

Maybe there were questions he should ask, but for now, he was content to follow Sean, as Hitch had followed Virgil across the land, vast and mysterious, to the next small town.

* * *

Viggo smiled and tipped the young man, taking the bag and shutting the door in one movement. He dumped the bag next to Sean's in the corner. The sound of the shower stopped, and Viggo tugged on the belt of the sinfully soft robe, ran fingers through tangles of wet hair.

In a few moments, the bathroom door opened, letting out a cloud of steam and Sean wearing nothing but a towel. Viggo was trying to remember how long it had been as Sean took the few steps necessary to stand in front of Viggo. Tugging the robe open, Sean slid arms around Viggo's waist. He closed his eye to savor the warmth and the smells of the hotel soap and shampoo they'd both used. Leaning forward, Viggo wrapped his arms around Sean's neck, rubbing his face against damp skin, opening his mouth to taste Sean. 

Sean pushed forward, moving Viggo backwards until he ran into the bed, fell backwards. Sean followed, yanking off his towel, flipping the robe wide. Viggo lay on his back, arms flung wide, eyes half closed, watching Sean loom over him, hands on either side of Viggo's chest. 

"I want to fuck you."

Viggo clenched, felt his cock twitch. He nodded, tried to roll over, but Sean gripped his shoulders. 

"Don’t move. Let me."

Closing his eyes, Viggo nodded, felt Sean move away. He remembered the first time, his and Sean's insistence that they did not bottom, how nearly he'd screwed things up. 

Sean's hands slid under his thighs, pulling them up and apart, bracing his shoulder under one, pulling Viggo up. Viggo arched his back, felt cool slickness, shuddered at the slow, gentle probe. He pushed, feeling his mouth open as his attention narrowed to the feel of Sean's lubed finger moving in, then out, centering all attention to careful prep, each thrust thrilling Viggo's cock.

He moved, sudden and hard, and Sean laughed, pulling out. An eternity later, the bulk of Sean's cock pushed deep, the sudden burn transmuting into heat, Sean's hands rough and hard against Viggo's ass. 

Viggo could not move. Squinting through sweat, he tried to rock, tried to force Sean into moving. Sean's hands tightened and Viggo froze. 

"Tell me all about Ed, love," Sean crooned. "I know how you get after you've been astride a horse all day." 

Viggo shook his head, rolled it back and forth, aching, mouth dropping open. "Nothing. Swear. Please. Please, fuck, please--"

He clenched, managing to tilt his hips, spread his thighs slightly. Sean groaned, began moving slowly, pulling out then thrusting in, jolting Viggo, burning deep. It had been too long. He rocked harder, then stiffened, heat blasting down his spine to his cock then exploding .

He relaxed into Sean's fucking, humming happily, smiling to feel Sean come.

They lay side by side. Viggo shuddered as Sean wiped his belly and cock, twitching as aftershocks sparked under his skin.

"Now, about Ed," Sean said, hand firm on Viggo's thigh. Let's talk."

Viggo breathed out, slow and long and sweet, all the tension and longing and loneliness leaving him, opened his eyes, and smiled at Sean. "Nothing to tell, love. Nothing at all."

Groping for the soft and warm and long robe, Viggo pulled it over him, rolled closer to Sean, and slept.

* * * 

Viggo eased himself down on the porch, pulled off his boots and socks, and dropped them to the side. The afternoon sun warmed the air, but he could feel the cool of fall nights as the sun dropped into the west. He stretched, long and satisfying, flexing his feet, leaning back. Too many hotel nights, too many days spent standing around inside. Yesterday had been travel, but the long night's sleep, windows open, wrapped together under quilts, had been the best he'd had in months.

In the field across the drive, horses grazed in the long grass, coats shining. After riding, they'd spent a several hours brushing and currying them. 

The door rattled and boards creaked behind Viggo.

"Shift down," Sean said.

Viggo tilted his head back and smiled. The view was outstanding. Denim tight around thighs, black shirt tucked, broad shoulders. Sean's hair fell into his eyes as he looked down at Viggo.

"There's room," Viggo finally said.

"Not with you sprawled all over."

"What'll you give me?" Viggo quoted Sean's words from earlier.

"You still owe me for the stable work."

"There's beer inside."

Sean grinned, spreading his hands. "Right. So I'll go get some beer, and when I come out, you'll have shifted down a step."

"Not over?"

"Down." 

As Sean went inside, Viggo slid down a step, pulling his legs up, wood cool against his feet. He braced his elbows on his knees, rested his chin on folded hands.

The step was less comfortable than the wider space of the porch, the edge behind him catching him in the lower back. 

He slid forward, closed his eyes, breathing the smells of home in fall--the dry smell of dying grass, the smoke from neighbors' chimneys and wood stoves, the dusty smell of turning leaves. The odors of horse and dried sweat and leather clung to his clothing, familiar and warm.

Rattles and creaks announced Sean before he sat down, sliding his legs along Viggo's sides, leaning forward to tap Viggo's hand with a cold bottle. He took the beer, glass slick with damp.

Sean's arm slid around Viggo's chest and tugged him back to rest between strong legs. Viggo let his head rest against Sean's chest, setting his beer on his knee.

"Worth having to shift your arse?" 

Viggo nodded.

They sat in silence. Viggo sipped, the cold tang of the beer a perfect taste. His feet were starting to get cold, but he didn't want to move, relishing the warmth pressed against his back. He felt the movements as Sean drank. 

The sun slipped behind low-lying clouds, the light changing to an orange bronze that Viggo had never seen before. He tried to memorize it for later, for a poem, for a painting. 

Slowly the light faded, changing colors, finding new shapes. The first stars appeared.

Sean's hand stroked his chest.

Viggo finished his beer. 

"You were wrong the other night," he said, placing his hand over Sean's.

"Me?"

Viggo nodded, leaning back. "Talking about how I get when I ride all day."

Sean snorted. "I remember how you got..."

Viggo shook his head, pushing back against Sean a little harder than he needed to. "It wasn't riding that did it. It was you."


End file.
